*picks up John by the scruff and tosses him through an open window*
He’d been left by Scott and Virgil for less than a minute when there are suddenly giant fingers pinching at the back of John’s spacesuit and swinging the tiny man up, off his feet and into the air.
There’s a little, startled shout of “Hey!! Let me go!!” but then there’s a flick of a wrist and the person does let him go. Only not in any way he’d have hoped. G-force takes over quickly, momentum vs air resistance and John realizes abruptly that he’s falling and it’s a long way down because he’s just gone sailing out the window.
It’d be a long drop had he been normal sized, but a fall like this when John is miniaturized is terrifying; like someone has cut the cable for his space elevator and dropped him out of orbit. The ground, a blur of greens and greys, is rushing up to meet him, and John flails, tiny arms struggling for purchase on something anything as he plummets. There’s a branch, a tree, and he thwacks hard into it with a sharp cry and a crunch that might have been his tiny, fragile ribs.
He’s sliding, slipping, and the bark is rough enough to shred skin as he tries to find a crack to get his fingers into as he holds on. John’s breathing is short and shaky and there’s a pained groan and the dizzying drop below swirls as a gust of wind shakes his branch. Pulling himself up, the tiny spaceman does his best to shimmy along, pale with terror, trying to reach the sturdier intersection where the branch meets the trunk of the tree.
It’s still a long way down and John has to close his eyes against the vertigo. Ok. Ok. Come on John. Think. There must be people on the Island who can help him, who aren’t tiny. Kayo, Scott, and Virgil were miniaturized. He’s not seen Gordon all day, and Alan’s too short to climb up here to start with. He remembers @nibenhu-cas is about though, as the GDF had sent her over to help with their intruder problem, so John’s hands are shaky as they lift his wrist comm towards his mouth, and he patches the call through.
“Nibs?” Comes a tiny, squeaky voice from her wrist comm, and John’s little hologram pops up, all rumpled hair and fear, “I think… I may have a situation.”
